Annie's Games
by dreamingofrose
Summary: The 70th Hunger Games changed everything for Finnick. For the first time, he would do anything he could to make sure his tribute made it out alive. Full summary inside. Canon couple eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Finnick O'Dair never gave much thought to his life. He was a mentor for the kids that very rarely made it out alive. So when the reaping day came for the 70th annual Hunger Games, he never thought twice about who he would get. They would die, he thought. But after losing her sister to the games, Annie Cresta will do all that she can to make it out alive. And for once, Finnick wants to help one of the tributes. Canon couples eventually. The chapters will switch POVs occasionally.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Suzanne Collins owns the characters!

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**CHAPTER ONE**

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**APOV****  
**_Four times._

Amongst a crowd of hundreds, I wait patiently to sign in. Next to me, a girl is holding hands with her little sister, her knuckles white from gripping so hard. I wince at the sight. _Do__es she know?_ I wonder. _Does she know what she's getting herself in for?_

Unfortunately, she most probably does. Only twelve and forced to watch children from our district murder each other each year in the games. Shuddering, I step forward as another girl exits the line, her eyes blank with no emotion showing other than complete fear.

It's expected, so I know why.

"Next!" a croaky, seemingly old woman yells, and the brunette girl in front of me steps forward with her finger out. "Stop crying," the woman mutters as she pricks the girl's finger. A sob escapes the poor girl's throat, and she's led away to line up in her age range by a peacemaker. "Next!"

I step forward, my finger out. I'm not shaking as much as I was the previous few nights. Surprisingly, I'm not as scared as I probably should've been.

_Four times, _I remind myself.

"Next!" the woman shouts. I feel my eyebrows burrow together in confusion. The woman stares at me until I'm led away. Looking down at my finger, I notice a small drop of blood. It didn't hurt and I barely even noticed it happen.

We wait for what seems like forever until our escort – Lana – taps the microphone at the front of the stage. "Welcome!" she shouts through it and a painfully loud screech escapes the microphone, making everybody cover their ears. "Well," she starts, ignoring the noise.

We're made to watch a video of previous tributes and Lana makes a point of mentioning how good the other districts were. I turn my head a little so I can see mother in the crowd. Lifting my hand, I wave, a small smile on my face telling them don't worry.

"You!" a peacemaker shouts, not loud enough to interrupt Lana, but loud enough to get my attention. "Shh," he brings his fingers to his lips and I nod, turning away from the harsh threat. He's carrying a weapon of some sort and that scares me enough to stay silent for the next ten minutes.

"And now, to pick our female tribute!" Lana exclaims happily. I attempt to roll my eyes, but afraid of the peacemaker watching me, I stop myself, pretending to look at the sky.

"Come up to the stage, dear!" I hear Lana say. Looking down, I realise that I hadn't heard the name, but as everybody stares at me, I think I know who our female tribute is.

_Oh, God, no,_ I think. I can't! I'm physically, and mentally, unable to do this. I'll die in there!

Then, as I'm led onto the stage, I realise that's the point. Staring out into the crowd, I miss Lana taking a hold of my hand and pulling out the male tribute's name. I miss the boy being led onto the stage, and I miss mother's shrieks from the crowd of parents at the back. I'm just aware that soon, in a few weeks, the whole of Panem is going to see me, a small, weak girl, die.

"Come on, dear," somebody says, leading me into a room at the back of the stage. I'm led down a hallway, and then placed in a room. I can't protest, since the peacemaker, or whoever led me here, slams the door and leaves me alone.

The next few minutes, I wait. There's a few apples on the table in a frosted glass bowl, but, still afraid of the armed peacemaker, I don't pick one up, managing to ignore my rumbling stomach.

The peacemaker, the same as before, opens the door, leading in a family. _My_ family. As he leaves again, slamming the door behind him, I can't hear anything other than my mother's strangled cries.

"Annie," she says, pulling back and smoothing out the hair on my head. She's rushing, as we both know that we don't have long until I'm dragged away from her. "Stay safe in there."

I blink at her, begging my eyes not to realise the tears that sting my eyelids. If I hadn't felt anything before, I can definitely feel it now. District Four is my home, and this was my last year of reaping.

_Four times! _I think again as mother pulls me closer to her, stroking the back of my head as I fall against her chest. _Four damn– _

"It's time to go," somebody tells us blankly. Pulling away from me, mother flashes me a small, sad smile and whispers me good luck. She knows I'll need it, but she tells me that I can do it. As she's led out of the room, she tells me that she has faith in me.

Well, I need that.

I don't say anything to the peacemaker who's made his way into the room. I slump down on the couch, instead, letting my head fall into my hands. I need more time. More time to say goodbye.

I notice that I'm shaking – the room is freezing – as the door opens again. And, before I can look up, somebody drapes a jacket over my back and shoulders. I look up, expecting to see Lana.

"Come on," my mentor says blankly. _Finnick O'Dair_. I remember when he became the mentor five years ago. I don't know him personally, but I don't know if I really want to. He doesn't even seem to try. "We need to go," he tells me.

A peacemaker and Finnick lead me out towards a car which will take us to the train. Already inside, Mags – my favorite mentor from Four – sits with the male tribute. He's shivering, just as much as I was, and I ponder whether I should give him Finnick's jacket.

But then I realise he's just scared.

"I'm Cal," he tells me, reaching out his hand. I shake it and tell him my name. "I know," he says, pulling back his hand. "You were just up there, but you didn't hear my name. You were distant."

I laugh, causing both Finnick and Mags to snap their heads towards me, their eyebrows furrowing and their eyes wide. But, instead of singling me out, Cal grins back.

Who knows? It might be nice to have him around.

As the car comes to a halt, we're all led onto a grand train. We have a few compartments to ourselves, and a bed to sleep in that night until we reach the Capitol. Finnick, from beside Mags, nudges her when we reach the train and step instead.

"There's your boy," Finnick says, and as I see the side of his head, I notice that he's smirking. Mags shakes her head, apologising to the boy who Finnick has embarrassed. He seems to have a thing for Mags. I don't blame him; really, she looks great for seventy five.

"Finnick, enough," Mags turns to us, gesturing towards a couch in one compartment. Along with Cal, we stare at the things in awe. Mahogany tables and chairs, real silver and gold decorations, and a chandelier that falls just above the couch.

We do as she says and sit down. Finnick and Mags do, too, opposite us. I pull Finnick's jacket closer to me, but it's not needed anymore. The room is boiling, in a good way.

"How are you feeling?" Mags asks, not saying anything other than that. She knows that we know the drill. We know we prepare, and we know we die. Simple as that.

And considering I'm not a career, I know that they know that to.

"Good," I say when Cal doesn't answer. I honestly don't know how I'm feeling. Should I be scared? I don't feel it. I don't feel anything. "Great, in fact," I lean forward to smooth my finger across the table. "This is amazing."

Mags smiles at me sadly. "I know, dear. It is."

Finnick doesn't say anything as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of white cubes. I stare at him, confused, as he pops one into his mouth. "Anybody want a sugar cube?" he asks, flashing a cheerful grin. Cal reaches forward and takes one, placing it on the end of her tongue.

For the second time today, I laugh, but it's hollow and doesn't hold any emotion. I wonder why I'm laughing, but it must not be wrong since Mags smiles.

"Well," she pats her knees. "We best get you to off to bed. We'll arrive in the Capitol just after breakfast tomorrow and there we'll tell you more about what you'll see and what you'll be expected to do. The opening ceremony comes first. To get you ready for that, you'll meet your stylists."

I nod, not sure on what to do. "Anybody hungry?" she asks. I shake my head and glance over at Cal who says no, _but he'd like another sugar cube._

We're led off to our temporary bedrooms and it doesn't take me long to fall asleep. I change first, pulling on a pair of brand new white pyjama bottoms, supplied to me by the Capitol, of course.

In the morning, we're woken by a few peacemakers who take us to a different room than yesterday. It's large, too large to be on a train, but surely enough, there are bright colors flashing past the windows in a hurry. Then, as if we're going under a tunnel, it turns to dark.

"Good morning," Mags says. Finnick isn't here yet, and she explains that he went to sleep late the previous night. I can't imagine why. Unless he's seeing one of the waitress' secretly, wooing her behind our backs, and that's why he's a terrible mentor. I wouldn't be surprised.

I pick up a piece of bread and break it in half. It's soft and warm on the inside, and it melts away in my mouth. "Amazing," I say, as that seems the only way to describe the Capitol.

"Good morning."

The sliding door to this compartment opens, and a head pops through. Finnick! And he's not dressed, not a lot anyway, as when he slides the door across fully, he's wearing his underwear. I'm scared I'll blush, so I turn away, picking up another piece of bread and smothering it with plum jam.

"Finnick," Mags rolls her eyes, but something about her demeanour tells me that it's common for him to act this way. He doesn't even bother to get changed. Instead, he walks into the room and sits down as if it's perfectly normal for him to be half-naked.

I look down, finishing the last half of the bread. It's too good to resist, and I lean forward to take another piece. Somebody else's hand is there already, taking the piece that I want. The hand has a gold ring around the little finger with a language that I can't read scrawled on it.

"Oops," Finnick laughs. He pulls back his hand, nodding at the bread. "It's yours. You like it."

My cheeks start flaming and I shake my head. "You can have it," I tell him and wipe my mouth with a cotton napkin. I stand up and smile at Mags. "Thank you for this, but I think I'm going to go get changed."

I leave without another word towards my mentors, nor to Cal who's digging in to something that resembles soup. I don't see much of Finnick, but before I leave towards my room, I notice him take the piece of bread back to his plate, grinning.

I chose a white dress to enter the Capitol. I was hoping for a pair of trousers, but according to the people who supplied me with my outfits, they didn't exist. There were dresses and heels, but I wore my usual boots with the dress. They didn't look too bad.

Not surprisingly, when I exited my cabin, Finnick was still in his underwear. I roll my eyes and join Cal, now dressed in a smart suit – minus the tie – at the window, staring out at the Capitol's bright colors.

They are people waving and Cal joins in, smiling brightly at the people who will cheer at anything – his death, mine. I sigh, bringing up my hand to wave. I don't get a chance, though, as somebody comes behind me and takes my hand back.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Cresta," Finnick says, and when I look at him, he's smirking. He drops my hand and I glare simply at him, but I don't start an argument as Mags joins us. We stand together, waving to the Capitol and smiling at them. Finnick smiles at somebody and they faint.

_Welcome to the Capitol _is written in bubble letters on a flyer above our heads. As the train door opens, Finnick trails over, smiling once at me before leaving.

I hear him shout, "Hello!" The crowd takes it in, screaming at his presence. Mags leads Cal out and I follow, staring at the floor as Cal waves again, laughing adoringly at the crowd.

I think of mother at home. Can she see this? Confidently, I lift my head, showing my teeth in a perfect smile at the Capitol's minions. There ridiculous wigs wobble as they wave back enthusiastically, and bright, gleaming teeth show as they smile at us, pulling back their lipstick stained lips.

"Good," Finnick says, and proceeds to give me some advice, which is odd for him. He's so self-adsorbed I'm surprised he noticed my try at gaining the Capitol's attention. "Make them like you," he orders me.

Then, as if he's used to this attention – probably is, knowing him – he walks over to a woman in the crowd. Kissing her full on the lips, she faints into her friend's arms. "Typical," I mutter and roll my eyes. I follow him out, waving closer at the people. They smile at me warmly, but their love belongs to, and always will do, Finnick.

But he smiles at me. "Nice," he says. "Keep that up and you'll be sure to get sponsors. They're ideal in the Games. You'll need them."

Mags, taken aback by Finnick's kind words towards me, nods to me anyway, confirming what Finnick told me. I nod back, pulling down my hand as we're led into a car that will take us to a large building, with rooms bigger than the whole train – the place we'll be sleeping, eating, training, and the place that will transform us from tributes to fighters.

I turn to look out the window as the car speeds towards the main building. As I smile at a young child in the crowd, she glares at me. And then, without even trying, Finnick seems to notice and smiles at the girl himself. The girl's mother typically faints, but the young child waves, grinning back.

"Thanks," I mumble sarcastically. Finnick spends a few more moments waving at the girl, and then turns back to me.

"Don't worry, Cresta," he says, smirking. "You'll get your turn soon."

Slumping back in my chair, I frown. He knows just as well as I do that the Capitol only have one interest from District Four, and they're certainly not me. Or Cal, though he seems to be lapping up a lot of attention.

Finnick is the main beauty. The main boy, the main victor – the most loved – and the mentor who, although doesn't help his tributes much, is the one that people look at lovingly. They want him, they want to see him, and they don't want to see me.

Maybe having him as a mentor will work to my advantage. Maybe, since I'm under his spell, he can charm his way around the people so they will sponsor and help me.

Maybe, just maybe, I need Finnick to win this.

I turn back to Finnick, but he doesn't notice. He's busy smiling the crowd. His crowd. His _fans_. I think of mother at home again, and imagine her watching me, begging me to do everything I can to win. So, I get out of my seat and go over to see Finnick, sitting down almost on his knee. I follow his lead and wave, smiling.

He stares at me before laughing. "Whatever you think will make you win," he whispers. I roll my eyes, but I carry on waving. And, to my surprise, the crowd wave back, smiling at me widely.

I really do need Finnick to win this.

**AN – **Short chapter for the start, but let me know if you like it and if I should finish! I had to make up a few names (Lana and Cal) because I didn't know who was there with Annie. I hope you like anyway. (:


	2. Chapter 2

**AN – **Thank you for your reviews! I'm nervous now. I'm scared that I won't get the same response. :P I hope you like!

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**CHAPTER TWO**

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**APOV**_  
__Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip!_

"Ow!" I finally yell, my hand rushing to sooth my aching leg. My stylist, Siva, smiles at me softly from the other end of the room, as if to say _not long left. _I frown and lay back in the bed, letting the stylists tear at my skin again.

_Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip!_

One of the stylists places a big wad of waxing papers in the bin next to Siva. They've finished, thankfully, but my body is aching all over and bright red from the beauty torture. That can't look attractive, right? And that's what they're here to do.

To make me beautiful.

They turn to my eyebrows, and I wince at every moment as they pluck away at my stray hairs that have gathered over the years. Then, another, smaller wax strip is placed in the middle of them both. _Rip!_

It takes another two hours to get me ready, minus my outfit. I'm smooth all over – they even scrubbed and then moisturised my skin – and my face is decorated with wave inspired make-up. My cheeks are a very light coral, and my lips are bright blue, while my eyes have a smoky green effect and fake-eyelashes with gems at the start of them on my eyelids.

I don't get to see myself yet, though, not until I'm in my outfit, designed and handmade by Siva. My thoughts turn to Cal and how he's doing, and I wonder if he's getting any special treatment because he's younger than me. Probably, since he's not only younger, but cuter and smaller and people just generally seem to like him.

My outfit is a dramatic, blue dress flowing into white crystals at the bottom resembling waves. There are green bits of ribbon tied in my hair in loose curls, and it's pulled over to the side. My hair is high at the top, twisted around to the back of my head with ribbon in the twists, too.

I look _amazing_.

I gaze at myself in the mirror as I have been doing for the last ten minutes. _This isn'__t me, _I tell myself. It _can't_ be. It's a huge transformation, but it's too much. It's too beautiful that it surely can't be me. I'm never beautiful. I'm plain. Even the people back home in Four who have had five kids and have sand stained skin are more beautiful than me.

"Annie we need to–" Mags opens the door, but stops in the doorway. "Oh, my!" she exclaims, her hands rushing towards her heart. She wore a simple blue dress that came past her knees and a pair of sandals. Because of her age, it's okay for her not to wear heels like the rest of us.

"Thank you, I guess," I reply. "You look nice, too, Mags."

"Well," she laughs, coming over to me and holding me at arm's length. She looks me up and down for a few minutes. "Nothing compared to you. Honestly. Finnick will love this."

I froze. "What?"

"Oh, nothing!" she pulls away from me, dismissing what she said quickly. I stare after her, but decide not to play on what she said. She's old, batty, and maybe insane, so she can't know what she's saying. "Come on."

"Where's Cal?" I ask curiously, and she points towards the door down the corridor. I step out of the room, following Mags towards Cal's stylist, Deyni, and her team's room. When I see him, waiting for me outside the room, I pause for a long minute before breaking out into a huge grin that hurts my heavily made-up face. It's worth it, though, just to see him like that.

"You look amazing, Cal," I tell him truthfully and hug him. It feels weird, but oddly nice to hold him close, even knowing that one of us – or maybe even both – are going to die soon. But I've missed this with my mother, not having her with me in the Capitol to hold me, so having Cal as a support means a lot.

He's shaking, I feel, so I pull back and rub his arms like I used to do to my little sister when she was cold. I pull a face thinking of her in this situation, and my heart aches to think about it. Hopefully she had somebody older to hold her close when she shook and to take care of her during the games.

Cal smiles at me. His teeth, I notice, have been whitened heavily and he looks like a Capitol boy officially when his bright green lips pull back against them. On his cheeks are small patterns of blue fish against blue, green and purple water and he's wearing a pair of brightly colored contacts. His messy, brunette hair is pulled slick back and raised, with bits of real seaweed attached, draping down some bits, falling towards his neck, and intertwining with others.

His outfit isn't completely different to mine regarding the colors, but otherwise, he looks nothing like me. He wears ripped shorts, with a pair of flat, plain white shoes. His legs are covered in sand, as if he's been walking on a real beach. His arms are bare, with an also ripped tank, and with more sand stuck to them. Other than his nails being painted – sea color blue like mine – and his face, there's not much sea inspired on him.

He looks like he's been shipwrecked and just come home. But it works, and he looks wonderful. I have no doubt that the audience will love him when we get out there and introduce ourselves to the Capitol crowd.

"Very nice," I hear somebody clap their hands and I jump. Cal and I both turn, but instead of smiling like Cal, I glare at Finnick. Mags lets out a small laugh, like she knows something that we don't, but I don't have the guts to glare at her.

"Whoa," Finnick says, punching Cal on the arm playfully. "You look just like I did at your age," he smirks. "A real, utter _mess_."

"Finnick!" I yell, leaning forward to punch his arm. But he just laughs along with Cal, who's holding his stomach, cackling.

"Don't worry," Cal says in between laughs. "I'm _meant_ to look this way. The audience, I hope, are going to feel sorry for me. That's what Deyni said. It's worked before."

I feel myself blushing as Finnick flashes me an _I told you so_ glance, his annoyingly perfect smile growing.

"Well," Mags says, taking a hold of Cal's wrist softly. "Let's go bring you to your chariot. You two, hurry up, and please, for the love of all things good, _stop_ bickering."

Mags leaves with Cal following. He waves at Finnick who grins at him. "They're going to love you," he tells Cal just as the door closes behind him and Mags. And then, Finnick turns back to me, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

He's wearing a simple suit. A black one, with a black tie and a white shirt. But, just as you'd expect with him, he looks amazing. Too amazing and too perfectly beautiful, in fact, to be true. Nobody would be able to tell that he's a Capitol boy.

"Well," he says. "You look–"

"Please don't insult me," I groan. Finnick laughs, but it's not bitter or nasty. It's an honest, breath-taking chuckle that makes me smile. "You look good, Finnick," I say. "Really."

"Thank you, Cresta, but I know," he says. I roll my eyes. _Oh, here we go_. "You look better than that, though. Better than me and Cal combined. You look beautiful."

My stomach flips and I'm pretty sure I'm going to throw up. That's the first time I've ever heard him say anything good to anybody, and it was to me, not a string of ridiculously bright Capitol citizens who only have good things to say about him.

"Sorry," Finnick says. "I didn't mean to fluster you."

And then, he winks, turning around to leave. Before I can even mutter another word, he's gone. "_Pig_," I grit my teeth together and get myself ready to follow.

When we're out on the chariot, it's a lot wobblier than I expected. It could break any minute. Well, that would be funny, at least, to the Capitol, and maybe they'd sponsor us because of that and we'd be made to bring in the laughs. We could say it was on purpose. Cal takes my hand and squeezes it, but let's go immediately. "This isn't a game," he says, his eyes facing forward. "Okay? Make them like you. Don't worry about me, yeah?"

I nod. "Okay," I say, confused that he feels the need to tell me this. That was my plan anyway. "You too."

"I know," he laughs. "I'll be fine."

"Well, alright," I say, a little laugh escaping my throat. As the chariot starts and we're led into the opening ceremony, I shoot a glance over to Finnick. To my dismay, though it's not surprising, he's flirting, as usual, with one of the Capitol ladies. She's leaning over the barriers while he talks to her, and she's giggling at any moment possible. Rolling my eyes, I focus my attention on other people in the crowd and not Finnick and his stupid smirk.

"Beautiful!" somebody yells. I feel a rose land on my foot and I bend down to pick it up. Standing up again, I blow a kiss to the sender, though I can't pick out who it was. There's hundreds of people who are tossing roses to the chariots, not just ours. The crowd pauses before going completely wild again, with more shouts of compliments I hadn't even dreamt of hearing. It's unusual, but it makes me smile.

I zone out for a few minutes, monotonously waving towards the adoring crowd. I sneak a peek at Cal, and he's doing the same, a gleaming grin on his face. I smile as I watch him, and turn my head to catch a few more roses, blowing kisses in all different directions.

I don't realise that the chariot has stopped. We're in another room now, and its dark compared to the candle lit ceremony. The cheers and shrieks of the crowd die out as I assume the last district are pulling out, too, and somebody, a peacemaker, helps me and Cal out of the chariot.

"You were great," Cal reaches up to hug me on his tiptoes and kisses my cheek once the peacemaker leaves. I smile down at him.

"You too," I say, just as the door bursts open. In comes Mags with Finnick behind her, both of them holding a few stray roses that I couldn't collect. My stomach flips for the second time today, and I get that throwing up feeling once more. "Whoa," I steady myself, preparing not to fall.

"Be careful," Finnick orders, "we can't have you bruised. You're _my _tribute, you can't get hurt before the games. Plus, we need pretty knees for the interview dress I have planned."

He winks at me and I scoff, taking the dozens of roses out of his hand. It doesn't take long for us to get to our floor, as we're only on the fourth, but the lift makes my stomach flip and turn and do cartwheels, worse than before. Groaning, I push through Mags, Cal and Finnick, getting out of the lift before I collapse.

I stumble into the room and make my way towards the dining area. Perhaps some food would make me feel better. Mags and Finnick follow me, while Cal says he wants to shower first and get the fish paintings and sand off him. I smile at that, at how disgusted he feels afterwards. He leaves, itching his arms and legs and moaning.

"Here," Finnick slides into his usual seat, passing me over my favorite plum jam. I don't want to take it from him, because it's _him_, but it's _so_ good. I chew the inside of my lip, so much that I feel a little blood.

"No thanks," my stomach rumbles and he eyes me suspiciously, but he simply shrugs and pulls it back. My stomach makes another noise, and before I can resister the look on Mags or Finnick's faces, I'm running out of the room and towards my bathroom.

I heave into the toilet a few times, with nothing coming out, and then fall back against the wall. There's a light knock on my door. "Cresta?" I hear Finnick's voice and moan, ready to be sick – or, in my case, not be sick – again.

"Finnick," I manage to say. "I don't … I just want to be alone."

"Do you feel okay?" he asks, ignoring my request. I can almost imagine him smirking at how terrible I feel. I nod, then realise he can't see me. "Cresta?" he adds, growing a little more frustrated. Okay, so maybe he's not smirking, but why wouldn't he be?

"Go away," I moan, rolling over to place my head over the toilet again. I see a panel against the wall, with various buttons on it, signalling different things. I press one of them curiously and a large tray practically flies out of the tiles, containing lots of bottles and scrubs.

"I'll save you some lamb," Finnick mutters. I wait until I hear my bedroom door closing and I stand, stripping out of my opening outfit, hanging it over the sink neatly. I don't want to ruin Siva's flawless work and make it seem like I didn't appreciate it when I certainly did.

I turn on the shower which takes me a while with all the various, unmarked buttons on the wall. When it finally comes on, I pull some bottles from the holder that flew out of the wall a few minutes ago and study them. I find one that says hair wash and climb into the shower.

I found, annoyingly, that the shower has a limited time. It takes ten minutes, just when I'd started putting on the shampoo, and then a dryer comes on. It takes me a while, with the shampoo in my eyes, to open the shower door and make my way over to the sink. Ignoring my pact to keep the dress intact, I push it off and run my hair under the cool water.

"Whoa, sorry."

"Oh my!" I scream, falling onto the floor and scrambling to get my towel. Pulling it over me, I glare – and probably blush – at Finnick. He stares at me, his eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," he rushes, coughing uncomfortably. "I didn't … I didn't see anything, just in case you're worried," he mutters.

I pause to pull on a fresh pair of underwear – he turns away politely – and then pull on my pyjamas. As I stand up, I cough back. "That's okay," I say. "I didn't mean to fluster you."

And, without another word, I leave him alone, strutting confidently past him and towards the dining area. Cal, now dressed in his dark blue pyjamas, and Mags are in deep conversation about training tomorrow. Cal's limited himself ten minutes to each station, which sounds odd considering we have the whole day to train.

"Hey," Cal says coolly as I sit down. "Feel any better?" he asks. I nod, smiling at both Mags and Cal. Finnick appears a few minutes later, just as I dig into the stew he saved for me, and sits down quietly. I'm sure I'm blushing again.

"Finn?" Mags asks, raising an eyebrow at him. She dabs her mouth with the napkin in her hand. "Feeling okay? You're too quiet. I don't like it. It's not normal for you."

Finnick turns to me, his expression unreadable, and then smirks at Mags. "I'm fine," he leans back in his chair. "Great actually. I just can't wait for training tomorrow."

I know that I'm blushing already, but it seems that I've gone redder as Cal points out. I shoot him a warning glare, but he smiles at me, letting me know that he was joking. I smile back, feeling mean that I'd just glared at him.

Then, as we finish our meals in a strange but comfortable silence, Mags reaches towards her glass, filling it with some sort of bubbly. I don't object when she pours some in my glass, and neither does Finnick, while Cal sticks with fruit juice.

"To District Four," Mags says. I smile as we all raise are glasses and clink them together.

"To District Four," I repeat, clanging my glass together with Finnick's. Our eyes stick on each other for a few seconds before I raise my glass, bringing it towards my mouth and sipping it.

_To District Four_, I think proudly. _The home of this year's victor._

**AN – **I don't have much to say here. Please review!

Also, I forgot, (it's been quite a long time since I read Catching Fire, that Mags had a stroke or something so she has speech problems. Let's just say that happened after Annie's games!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own THG or any of the characters otherwise Finnick wouldn't have died (and the whole series would have been about Finnick and Annie's relationship hehe).

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**CHAPTER THREE**

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**APOV  
**We wake up early again; agonising Cal who has purple and black bags under his eyes from staying up all night because he couldn't get to sleep. Our escort, Lana, who we haven't seen or spoken to since the reaping, joins us for a large breakfast containing all sorts of foods – mainly cheese, fresh bread and rolls, and pastries with multi-colored jelly fillings – and even our stylists make an appearance.

Deyni and Siva stare disapprovingly at the bags under Cal's eyes as the Avoxs and maids give us our hot plates ready for the food. I thank one with a small smile, but the death glare I receive from Finnick cuts me short. The Avox doesn't even flinch – she's most probably used to it – and hands me a beautifully clear glass before turning on her heel and leaving.

"We need to do something about that," Siva says, gesturing to Cal's heavy, tired eyes. Finnick stops glaring at me and scoffs at our stylists.

"No," Finnick says, spreading some orange colored goo on a bread roll and biting into it. "They've got training today."

Siva doesn't address Finnick; instead he turns his attention onto me. "_Annie_," he says. "You mustn't pick at your nails."

"They're useless now," Mags says and I can't tell whether she's talking about her worn out canes which she's staring disapprovingly at or my nails.

Aside from Lana's occasional few words about the food, or the Capitol, or questions to us about how we're feeling, there isn't must conversation at breakfast. Lana also tells Cal off a few times for yawning saying it's rude at the breakfast table. And then, without another word, she leaves the table, calling over an Avox to take away her plate.

"So what's the deal with training?" I ask Finnick as the Avoxs clear all of our plates and glasses. Mags hobblingly stands up and tells us she's going to attempt to sort out the wobbliness of her canes and Deyni and Siva take Cal away to get ready. I feel a sense of relief that I got an early night from the silent compliment as Siva winks at me.

As soon as they're gone, Finnick turns to me. "There's a large hall with all different stations – plants, fire making, spears, knives. You know? The lot of it. You'll be there today, tomorrow and the next day. It's your training for the actual games."

I nod, taking it all in. The whole deal with the Capitol has overwhelmed me, but I like the idea that the gamemakers can't see us until we show them our best skills in three days. Until then, we'll train alone, unless our mentors want to come with us and if Cal and I choose to train together. We haven't spoken about that, yet, but I assume naturally that he'll want to be with me.

"Will you come?" I ask Finnick.

"If you want me to," he frowns. "But … maybe that's not such a good idea. I mean, there's going to be …"

He stops and I can't help feeling like it's because he just wants to protect my feelings. It's my turn to frown. "Why?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "You …" I remember the rumors I've heard of Finnick before and nod, sure I'm blushing a little. I continue in a quieter tone. "You're busy."

"Thankfully, no," Finnick says. "You've got me all to yourself."

He winks at me and I roll my eyes. He stands up, leaning over the table, and out stretching his hand. "Have a sugar cube," he says seductively. Whatever he's doing, it works. I can feel myself blush again and I take one of them nervously. "Now go and get ready."

…

The training room was a lot different than I imagined. Despite not actually being watched by any gamemakers, there were still peacemakers guarding the door and cameras in the hallway which led us towards it. I wasn't sure, but I thought I felt Finnick squeeze my hand encouragingly as we entered the room.

I was introduced to the different stations briefly by Finnick as Mags and Cal had yet to join us. Even though the other tributes had already gotten practising – some more vicious than others – I don't want to start until Cal was with me.

"Hey."

I jump at a cool hand tapping me on the back. When I turn, Cal is smiling at me widely. His teeth, I notice, are a few shades whiter again and the bags under his eyes are completely white. He must notice my expression at seeing him like this and he chuckles.

"They tried to make me wear some ridiculous training outfit," he says. "And they said they wanted to do the same to you, but that you'd probably tackle them if they tried. You should have seen what they wanted to put us in!"

I grin back. "Well, good," I say, motioning to my plain and simple training outfit. It's black, with bits of red on the shoulder, and our district number in the same color on each shoulder and my back, to remind everybody where we are from. If we didn't look so scrawny and little, we'd probably be seen as careers.

"Let's go, then," Finnick says, his face dead set on staring out the careers who are at the knife station. "We don't want to waste any time."

Cal decides that we should spend an hour at each station, which Finnick agrees with. I barely notice that Mags is with us because she has been so quiet. She smiles at me, though, encouraging me at the knife station – only once the careers leave.

We do as Cal decided and spend an hour at each. I find use in the plants station, the fire burning, and the camouflage, while Cal is better at throwing accurately. When I have a try at throwing a knife, it lands miserably at Finnick's foot, who picks it up and shoots me a wary glance. Quickly, as if it were his turn to train and not mine and Cal's, he turns so flawlessly and throws the knife at a target halfway across the room. It hits the direct middle and stays there until a shaking career pulls it out. Every other tribute turns to me, Finnick, Mags and Cal, and I can feel myself blushing.

"Well done, Annie!" Finnick exclaims. I snap my head up to him, but he just winks down at me. Somebody from another district gulps close to me, and when I turn to them, they quickly direct their attention to the spear they're holding. It falls from their hands, and when I go to pick it up for them, I see that they're shaking, much like the career who now tries so hard to show they're not scared.

"You're lucky nobody was watching you in the first place," Finnick whispers to me once I stand up. Mags smiles at me and shows me a wrinkled thumbs up, while Cal glares at Finnick. When he looks at me, he looks confused, and almost angry. That's the thing I least want to happen here. Cal can't hate me. He can't.

I need him.

"You lied," I scowl at Finnick once everything has seemingly turned back to normal. "That wasn't me. It was you! Now people are going to think I … they're going to think … that I'm strong …"

"Relax," he says. From behind us, Mags is whispering things to Cal that I can't make out. I want to be able to, but I can't, not for the life of me. Finnick smiles, "Tomorrow, I'll help you more with throwing, and then it'll be okay."

"No, thanks," I say. "I think I want to stay with Cal, and it'll be easier for us if we train without our mentors."

"Why?" Finnick scrunches up his nose. "So you can miss again and almost stab somebody's else's foot? I don't think so, Annie."

I glare at him but don't answer. He smiles after a few minutes, "Okay, okay. I get it. You're going to be distracted."

"What?" I spit. "No, no. You've got it all wrong!"

"Don't worry," he laughs. "I knew you'd fall for me eventually."

…

We all walk over to the lift painfully. Mine and Cal's bodies are aching, and with every step, a pain shoots through my leg. It's as if two untrained amateurs have just run a one hundred mile marathon. Though, in reality, we're just two untrained amateurs who have gone under gruelling training to make us better. In Cal's case, it worked. In mine, I just got worse.

Though with the help of Finnick, I'm painted as a person to avoid in the arena. Maybe it will be good for me.

"Hungry?" Finnick laughs as I pile my plate higher with meat and potatoes. I glance at him, glaring, before he raises his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry," he says, grabbing some bread and the same orange goo from this morning to put on his plate. I roll my eyes as an Avox brings him some sugar cubes. "Special order," he tells me, winking.

"Your teeth will rot," I tell him matter-of-factly. I hear Mags laugh a little from the other end of the table. "It happened to old Davis back home when he drank too many cups of tea with hardly any tea and just sugar. You wouldn't have known. You spent a lot of time at the Capitol that year. Girls in school wouldn't shut up about you. Gosh, there were so many rumors about you that year! I'm sure they're not just rumors, though, right?" I smirk.

His hand tenses around the edge of the table, and I'm sure he's going to flip it over. I close my eyes, ready to have bits of lamb and pork flung onto me as the table flips and breaks in half. But, instead, there's just a light bit of laughing.

When I open my eyes, Finnick has leant across the table and is smirking almost seductively at me. "Want a sugar cube?" he asks, fluttering his long eyelashes a little and wetting his lips. I'm almost sure I'm blushing.

"No thanks," I manage as I stand up. "And I'm actually not that hungry."

"Sit, Annie," Mags says, gripping my wrist with her soft hand. "_Please_. If you thought training was hard today, it'll be worse tomorrow with an empty stomach. Trust me."

Finnick sits back down, laughing, and I glare at him, but Cal takes my attention instead. He's glaring at Finnick darkly, his eyes looking almost murderous. Finnick hasn't noticed, and even if he does, he wouldn't care. In fact, he's probably laugh. Cal has nothing on 'The Great' Finnick Odair.

"Okay," I mutter in defeat. Mags smiles at me as I slump back in my chair. Truthfully, I am hungry, but I won't admit it. I eat my lamb slowly while the others wolf down their meals. Soon, an Avox returns with a tray full of something white and square like.

Well I definitely know what that is.

Finnick smiles in my direction. "Sure you don't want some, Sugar?"

Mags bursts out laughing while I slam my hands down onto the table. "That's it," I say, a little edge of humor in my voice. "I'm going."

I'm allowed some time to take a bath while the table is cleared. Mags is still laughing sweetly at Finnick as I leave, though Cal hasn't loosened up. If he keeps that up, I'll have to worry about my partner getting killed embarrassingly by Finnick Odair before the games even start.

I stay in the bath for so long that my fingers start to look like Mags' do. They're wrinkled and feel funny when touched. The Capitol has so many luxuries – like hot water – that we don't have back at home, and I'm growing used to the lovely, bubbly baths and showers with endless supplies of soap and shampoo that we barely have any of in Four.

It's a shame that I'll be dead soon.

I dry myself off quickly after my fingers actually start to feel gross and rub some moisturiser all over my legs, hands, arms, face and even my stomach. I'm still smooth and golden-skinned from Siva's makeover on me. I change into something more comfortable than my training outfit – a little white dress and a pair of flat shoes with laces.

There are people still in the living room when I leave my room, surprisingly, but Cal isn't there. There are a few people who I don't know – presumably some Capitol whores, for a lack of better explanation – and Finnick, who glares at me as I stand awkwardly at the doorway.

_I'm __busy, _his face reads.

I decide to leave him alone before anybody else other than Finnick spots me. That is probably the safer option.

I check Cal's room to see if he's awake, but his bed is empty and he's left his training gear in a bundled mess on the floor. I smile at that. He reminds me of my sister and how messy she is back home. I push that thought quickly out of my head. It won't be good to start thinking of home now.

After walking around on the floor – dodging peacemakers and various Avoxs who either carry kitchen goods or clean towels and clothes – I find Cal sitting against a wall on the window ledge. He doesn't even look up at me when I sit opposite him.

"Hey," I smile softly at him. Again, he doesn't look up; instead he just raises his eyebrows in what I assume in a _hello._ "Okay," I breathe. "So what's up?"

He doesn't answer me and I sigh. "What is the matter with you? Why aren't you talking to me?" It makes me angry to think that, for whatever reason, Cal, the closest I have to a friend right now, hates me. "What … what have I done?"

"_You_ haven't done anything," he finally looks at me. "That's the problem."

" … Wait, what?"

"You just love this, don't you? You're sailing through this, Annie. I wouldn't be surprised if you won now! With Finnick, and the knife, and the unwritten promise of sponsors just because he's your mentor. It's so easy for you, you know. You're _so_ lucky."

"That's not my problem," I whisper.

"Yeah, maybe not," he clambers off the window ledge and turns to me. "But it doesn't mean you don't love it. Good luck, Annie."

He starts to walk again before he lets out a laugh and turns back around. "Doesn't matter. You won't need it."

**AN – **This chapter is kind of a mess and it just got worse, but *sigh* I hope you liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN – **Sorry I haven't updated in a while bleh… I've been on holiday and then busy with school, but I wrote 6 chapters while I was away but I've lost them all. :/ I'll try update quicker now!

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**CHAPTER FOUR**

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Training starts early again with no real words formed between me and Cal other than mutters of good morning. There's nothing really sour between us, so when Cal decides to leave to train alone with Mags, he tries to make it quiet so I won't notice and so he's not deliberately leaving me to hurt my feelings. I do realise, though, because Finnick has already got a frown set on his face that takes my attention.

"I don't know what's happened with you two," he says. "But it best not damage today's training."

We start at the fire making station. Easy. Or so it seems. I can't light a fire with the twigs, leaves, bark and grass provided because I have to look over at Cal every few minutes. He's excellent with the spears, so he goes there, naturally. He throws them at the targets that light up quickly and never misses a single one.

"Focus," Finnick orders, snapping his fingers to apparently snap me back to reality. I roll my eyes at him and stare at my flop fire. He expects me to be perfect at this, but the reality is; I'm not. I never will be. But it's not just the fires that I'm terrible at, though this seems to be the worst.

"Can we go now?" I whine after what seems like ages at the fire station. He drops my failed mash of what was supposed to be fire and stamps on his own (he did try to show me how it was done many times) before nodding.

Knives. They're not my strongest point and I definitely need work on them, and my hands are already shaking as I pick up one of them. I let out a nervous laugh. I can feel the careers staring at me, willing me to throw the knife well.

"You're too good at this, Annie," exclaims Finnick rather loudly. He laughs, too, taking the knife from my hand before I even have the chance to study my dummy target. "Let's move on. Don't waste your time at a station you've already perfected."

"Finnick," I try my best to hide my scowl as he leads me over to what reminds me of a children's climbing frame, like the ones fathers used to put together out of wood and whatever other scraps they could find, just so us kids could have fun, before we had our childhood snatched from us. I have to admit, coming here is a good idea, because so far, I haven't had any practise at climbing, which may come in handy with the amount of trees I know will be in the arena.

"Don't worry about it, Cresta," he says. He's frowning again, noticing something behind me. I go to look but he grips my shoulder and pulls me back around, obviously not wanting me to see whatever he has. The cool of his little finger ring sends a chill down my neck and then spine. "We'll be able to train with the knives again tomorrow at private training."

I nod, forgetting all about what he saw until I turn around casually. He tries to stop me again but my eyes already notify what's in front of me.

Cal. The careers. Together, laughing, chatting as if they're old friends. They're talking about something that is beyond me, but the little career, who's a girl around my age, flashes me a quick smirk. I don't like it. I don't like them, and Cal shouldn't either. At all. They're too vicious for a kid like him to be getting messed with. They could easily rip him to shreds and use him in the arena.

"Finnick!" I desperately let out. "Where's Mags? Shouldn't she stop this?"

He shrugs in response, leaning against the metal of the climbing frame. My hands are too sweaty to start climbing yet, besides, there's a line that I have to wait behind while a scrawny boy has his turn on the bars that run across the top of the frame. "Maybe she was tired," he says, sticking up for his old mentor. I stare at him in disbelief. "I told you not to worry. Your turn is coming."

I'm still staring at him, but he doesn't notice as he sticks out his tongue in concentration, watching the girl who is making her way skilfully across the bars now. She's very, very pretty, so there's no wonder why he's staring. I roll my eyes. "Confidence is the key," he whispers, and I see the girl show the careers a grin as she slips through some of the bars, still holding onto the bars carefully, and swings for a few minutes before she quickly finishes her go. We move forward more in the line.

"_Finnick_," I frown. "I need to see–"

"Well then go!" he yells, pushing himself off the frame and dusting imaginary crumbs off his clothes, glaring at me. It shocks me enough that I step on the boy's foot behind me, but he doesn't seem to mind, as he blows off my apology, watching the next boy have his go on the bars with so much concentration that I doubt he even felt the pain of my heavy boot on his toes. "Just go. Go. But I guarantee you you'll make the worst decision of your life if you go over there now. Pairing with careers is never good. Except, maybe, for one person."

"Of course you'd know," I step away from the climbing frame and walk over to an easier station. The plants. He follows reluctantly and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up but still managing to look stunning. His frustrated eyes are clear and they shine through the light of this hall dazzlingly. It's hard not to blush around him. "And I know you don't think it'd be me if I did pair up with the careers," I sink to my knees next to some water weed by some realistic looking running, fresh water that makes a beautiful sloshing sound as it passes the manufactured, but again so realistic rocks.

He ignores me and we finish off naming the plants on a little metal screen that is on the wall next to us, finding out which I can eat, which can clear stings and which I should avoid, that sort of thing. He smirks a few times as I desperately run through names of water flowers in my head, trying to get their names right. I should remember them from years spent down at the sea.

By the time we've finished spears, knots – I'm already an expert being from a fishing district but it's still good to practise – and had at least a go on the climbing frame (I wasn't actually terrible thankfully), Finnick's returned to his usual obnoxious self.

As we walk back to the lift, he pops a sugar cube into his mouth and crunches on it annoyingly and so obviously on purpose. I cross my arms, making him just eat more, with him finding the whole thing hilarious. Jerk. He _would_ find it funny, wouldn't he?

"You're so irritating," I mutter, leaning against the cold wall of the lift. "Why do I have to train with you and not Mags? It's so not fair." I'm extra annoyed because I feel like I got no work done today. I just want to throw knives, preferably at Finnick if he doesn't shut up eating his teeth-rotting-cubes.

"Why stop now?" he asks, playing around with loose sugar on his outstretched palm. "I've got limited time left to get on your nerves, I want to make the most of the time I actually have left."

It's basically Finnick's way of telling me he thinks I'm going to die. He shoots me a smirk and a wink, pulling out a bag from his pocket and fumbling with it on his hand. As the door opens for our floor, I snatch one of the sugar cubes from the little bag and march to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me for extra effect.

…

Mags is the only one keen on keeping the conversation running at dinner time. "So how was training today?" she asks. I wait for Cal to answer, mainly because I want to hear his account of the careers and what else he got up to, but Mags says my name first.

"It went okay," I say, eyeing Finnick anxiously. I have the feeling that he's already disappointed in me. Instead, from beside him, I see Cal gulp almost guiltily.

"Okay," Mags nods, seemingly unsatisfied with my answer. She turns to Cal. "How about you, dear?"

Even Finnick tenses up now. I still have no idea where Mags went during training, maybe about getting sponsors like Finnick should have done , and like most of the other tribute's mentors would have been doing. But if he was out getting sponsors, he wouldn't have helped me, and I would have been alone, vulnerable with the careers.

And I wouldn't have known any better to walk away from the knife station.

"Like Annie said, it went okay," he says as if we actually trained together. Both Finnick and I frown. He must be thinking the same as me, because he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, speaking my thoughts that I'm too cowardly to voice.

"How are the careers?"

"Finn!" Mags warns. Her voice goes calmer, but still stern, as she says, "Leave him alone. But … wait, what? What do you mean the careers? What happened when I left? Is there something you need to tell me? Cal?"

All eyes are on Cal now. I want to thank Finnick, but at the same time I don't. Cal is just so little and just as vulnerable as me if not more and cute. Except he has got the careers on his side now assumingly and that makes him deadly, not adorable.

"Okay," he repeats, delving into his stew with his spoon hungrily. He doesn't say another word as we watch him, dumbfounded.

Finnick is the first to make a noise after a quiet few minutes. He stands up, his chair noisily scraping along the floorboards. "I've got to go," he says. "I'll see you in the morning, Annie, for one-on-one training."

"Wait!"

I shouldn't have said it, but I can't deal with him leaving. I actually kind of need him. Cal blatantly hates me and I can't have a conversation with Mags without her snoozing off or me getting bored. We have nothing to talk about. I'd rather have Finnick annoy and tease me than sit alone all night. When I'm alone, I think too much. And all that I can ever think about when I do have the chance is my family, the sea, Four and so on.

Mags and Cal carry on eating as I dab my mouth with a napkin and follow Finnick to the door. He shuts it over and I cross my arms over my chest, feeling helpless.

"Where are you going?" I ask casually. "Are you going to get me some sponsors? You know, get my name out there or something." I already know where he is really going, but it's worth a try.

"You'll have plenty enough time for that when your score's out and on interview night," he says. "I'm sorry, Annie. I am. Really, but I can't stay."

"Okay," I say and watch him walk away from me and towards the lift.

I don't particularly want to know where he's going; I just wish he wasn't. I don't want to get involved in his love life, since it has nothing to do with me and never will, but I'm curious about how he can just throw himself at these girls like he doesn't have any respect for himself.

I brace myself to go back to the dinner table and eat my stew while steadily ignoring the tears in my eyes. I feel like one of Twelve – with a useless mentor who doesn't care about me. Not even at all.

**AN – **Uh sorry for this chapter … let me know what you thought?


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